Pop music is an exercise in repetition. Whether referring to the verse-chorus-verse structure or the inevitable borrowing of riffs from one generation to the next, music bears repeating – in fact, it depends on it.
With this in mind, it seems rather ridiculous the members of Philadelphia-based group Dr. Dog catch so much flack for melting down their record collections. On the fantastic and chaotic We All Belong, they distilled the finer elements of Americana and British Invasion psychedelia, landing comfortably on the common ground between The Beatles and The Band.
For its latest and most polished effort, Fate, Dr. Dog continues its tradition of post-modernism cut and paste, recycling bits of Abbey Road along the path to carving out a more distinct sound for the band. Fate is without a doubt the group’s most cohesive album to date, focused where the previous LPs seemed to bounce off the walls.
The restraint serves the band well, but it’s an unequivocal, and possibly divisive, tradeoff. Part of the excitement of We All Belong was its utter unpredictably. The vibrant 24-track melodies were fearless, and the band completely undaunted by its expansive sonic palette. Under the weight of so many towering overdubs, the songs could have collapsed at any turn.
Fate sets the ante a little lower, favoring a reigned-in version of Dr. Dog’s swirling psychedelics. In smoothing over the faults in We All Belong (the album, for all its melodic revelry, felt disjointed), Dr. Dog creates some new issues in Fate. Hats off to Dr. Dog for shoving the vocals to the front this time, but the move drags the band’s dirty little secret into the light: Matching lyrics with melodies is not Dr. Dog’s forte.
Despite the inventive instrumental work on Fate, the songwriting just does not cut it. Not to say Dr. Dog is any worse off than most modern pop writers, but when the band’s sound immediately calls to mind so many of the great mainstays of rock history, Dr. Dog invites the comparisons no band wants to face.
Scott McMicken and Toby Leaman hold their own pretty damn well, just not as well as John Lennon and Paul McCartney or Rick Danko and Levon Helm.
Aside from the wholly regrettable refrain, “Why do you think we need ‘Amazing Grace’/ Just to tell it like it is?” the Leaman-fronted “Hang On” offers all the pleasures of the newer, clearer Dr. Dog. The band balances out snippets of slide guitar, bouncing piano and a strange sample of shifting machinery that segues perfectly into “The Old Days.”
Strangely enough, Dr. Dog chooses to alternate lead singers on a track-by-track basis. Even stranger, the tactic works to create an interesting one-two punch rather than disrupt Fate’s continuity.
Though not as technically talented a vocalist as McMicken, Leaman’s more distinct, nasal croon helps set Dr. Dog apart from the rest of the classic rock revivalist pack. Despite the heavy shades of New Morning-era Bob Dylan, album standout “From,” a Leaman tune, represents a step toward what may eventually become known as The Dr. Dog Sound.
McMicken’s “Army of Ancients” finds the band searching for its voice in the brassier end of The Band’s self-titled release, while “Uncovering the Old” reveals some of Dr. Dog’s guiltier pleasures. The track does not completely fit in, and although it is one of Fate’s weakest offerings, the song represents Dr. Dog’s reluctance to be pigeonholed.
In the latter half of the shimmering closer “My Friend,” after the bluesy riffs and Beatles footnotes give way, the real Dr. Dog shakes loose and rings out.
“Keep on with the living/ You’ll soon enough be dead/ You’ve got the world spinning in your head/ And you don’t want to give it up,” Leaman sings as the band transitions. The words may not be incredibly profound, but they certainly embody the Dr. Dog spirit, caught between optimism and morbidity, musical reference and self-reliance.
In its relatively brief period of existence, Dr. Dog has already proved it can just about make ’em like they used to. Fate shows the band getting a little closer to making the sort of album others will aspire to.
zherrm@umd.edu
RATING: 3 1/2 out of 5 stars
